Embrocate your mind, and your legs will follow.

The Superissimo has been painted as a lighthouse in this elite community of sexybiking. We shine light upon the rocky, often unstylish shores of our sporte, and we are proud of that. Like James told me one time, “So long as I’m looking down at somebody, the accuracy of my judgments are unfaltering.” So after a heavy night of hamstringing it behind the team Scüterrad, our conversation switched from electrical chainswitchers to the development of a team embrocation.

“Mostly that shit is stupid,” James offered, “and the stupid kits this year are white, so the stuff with the capsaicin in it forms stain buildups at the bibcuffs, which starts to look like I am dripping over-vitamined electroleak out the bottoms.”

I petted him on the back of the neck, which is very standard and acceptable in a directeur sportif/lead-out-man relationship, and asked what he would think of a clear embrocation. Not being one to soothe so quickly, he then shifted his dismay and annoyance to the topic of fragrance. “You know, I don’t necessarily want to smell like a Red Hot, a cup of chai tea, or a Pier 1 dumpster, either. I want to smell like a friggin man, dude.”

With this input in mind, I hit the Rolodex. Of course, I’m not going to find the contact right away. It turns out I was thumbing through the “Softboy Legcare Product” portion. Nowhere tucked among the $20 legshave crémê manufacturers would I find the man we needed, so I refocused my search in the “Barbasol-OldSpice-DutchMaster-MakersMark-Stuntmen” section. There he was. Jon of Buckler.

And now mere weeks later, here we are – Sancremo.

I run this on my legskins now compulsively. It is the best smelling business in this whole business. Fresh, and minty – like a mojito for your knees. A light coat will cool and refreshe – and the smell will have you spinning through summer with a smile. A very, very macho smile.